1985
by JustBlueMyself
Summary: October 25, 1985: Marty McFly had a good life, successful and supportive parents, a loving girlfriend, and a sweet Toyota 4x4. This would all change after being forced to help Dr. Emmett Brown with his research.
1. Chapter 1 - Parallel

Author note: Due to similarities across universes, some of the dialogue used in this chapter is the same or similar to dialogue in the movies.

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Parallel**

Oct 25 1985 08 19 01

In an unoccupied garage on John F. Kennedy Drive, dozens of clocks were all ticking in sync. A radio suddenly turned on, playing an ad about 1985 model Toyotas. After a few seconds, an old television flickered to life. On the screen, a female news anchor reported, "Officials at the Pacific Nuclear Research Facility have denied the rumor that the case of missing plutonium was in fact stolen from their vault two weeks ago. A Libyan terrorist group had claimed responsibility for the alleged theft; however, the officials now claim it was a simple clerical error." Next to the television, a toaster dinged and revealed toast that was completely charred. A robotic arm grabbed a can of dog food, held it to an automatic can opener, and then dumped its contents into a dog bowl already overflowing with a week's worth of food. Behind the dripping dog food, the name "Einstein" was still visible on the bowl.

Outside, a black Toyota 4x4 roared into the driveway. Its driver, Marty McFly, exited the pickup and walked towards the garage. He slowly opened a side door, kicking empty boxes and papers out of the way. "Doc?! Are you there?" He examined the house's state of disrepair. "Crazy old quack," he muttered to himself under his breath. Spotting an electric guitar in the corner, he picked it up and plugged it into a giant amplifier. He set the volume to 5 and began playing. Marty improvised a solo, cranked up the volume on the amp, and hit a power chord. The amp burst, blowing Marty back into a pile of debris. "Whoa, rock and roll," he said to himself.

Just then, the phone rang, and Marty picked it up. "Hello?"

"Marty! Good, you're there," said a rushed and anxious-sounding voice on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Brown—"

"Marty, I told you to call me—"

"Right, 'Doc.' What's going on?"

"I need you to meet me at Lone Pine Mall at 1:15 A.M."

"1:15? Doc, Mr. Strickland assigned me two weeks' detention, which ends today. So, I think I won't be—" He paused. "Where's Einstein, is he with you?"

"Yeah, he's right here."

"You know Doc, you left your equipment on all week."

"My equipment! That reminds me, Marty. You better not hook up to the amplifier. There's a slight possibility for overload."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

"Marty, I need your help tonight." Just then, all the clocks started going off at the same time, making it impossible to communicate. Finally, the noise from all the clocks died down. "Are those clocks I hear?"

"Yeah, it's 8:00."

"They're late! My experiment worked! They're all exactly 25 minutes slow."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc. Are you telling me it's 8:25?"

"Precisely!"

"Damn! I'm late for school!"

As Marty slammed the phone down and grabbed his keys, he didn't notice the bright yellow case labeled "Plutonium: Handle with Care." The sound of his Toyota's screeching tires echoed through the neighborhood as Marty hurried to school.

As Marty walked up the steps of the high school, he ran into a brown-haired girl.

"Marty, don't go this way," she warned. "Strickland's looking for you. If you're caught it'll be four tardies in a row."

Marty had developed a habit of arriving to school late, which got him into this mess with Doc in the first place. The girl ushered him to the side entrance of the school and peeked around the corner. "Alright, c'mon, I think we're safe."

They walked only a few feet when a booming voice interrupted them.

"Late again, McFly?" asked Strickland accusingly. The bald, never aging, hard ass principal of Hill Valley High always had it out for Marty. Marty's father had told him that Strickland was always like this. "Tardy slip for you, Miss Parker. And one for you, McFly," he said, turning to Marty. "I believe that makes four in a row."

"It wasn't my fault," Marty exclaimed. "Doc's clocks—"

"Doc!?" interrupted Strickland. He had always refused to call the unusual old scientist a doctor, saying that only medical doctors deserved the title. Strickland didn't allow students to call Doc by his preferred nickname. Doc didn't seem to mind too much, but he always insisted that Marty call him Doc.

"Mr. Brown, I mean," Marty said, correcting himself. "I was supposed to go over to help him with his research."

"Now, let me give you a nickel's worth of free advice, young man. When a teacher does you a favor and allows you to serve your detention to assist in his research, I suggest you thank him instead of blaming him for _your_ mistakes."

"Oh, yes sir," said Marty sarcastically.

"You got a real attitude problem, McFly. You're a slacker!" Strickland jabbed his finger into Marty's chest. "Just like your father. He was a slacker, too."

"My father?"

"Still writing those little fantasies of his? Now, with your fourth tardy in as many days, that'll be another week's worth of detention. I imagine you and Mr. Brown will become very close."

"Does it not bother you that this nutcase specifically requested that I help him with his _research_?" Marty gestured scare quotes as he said the last word. Marty still couldn't figure out why Doc had singled him out, or even what research he was doing. Plenty of other kids got detention, but Doc never requested their assistance with his work.

"You will do well to learn some respect, especially to the staff at Hill Valley High School, even if . . ." Mr. Strickland didn't finish his thought, but his opinion of the eccentric science teacher was clear.

"Can I go now, Mr. Strickland?" Marty asked.

"I noticed your band is on the roster for dance auditions after school today," Strickland replied, ignoring Marty's question. "Why even bother, McFly? You haven't got a chance. You'll never amount to anything." He smirked at Marty and finally walked away.

"Sorry, Jennifer," Marty said apologetically. He grimaced. "I can't believe I have to spend another week with that mad scientist."

"He's not that bad. At least you don't have to go to normal detention."

"No, I just have to keep on doing weird experiments with those clocks. That man is obsessed with time. As soon as a clock gets off by a minute, he's so fascinated by it. I don't ever see what he actually does to the clocks."

Marty and Jennifer walked in late to their science class. They were both in Doc's physics class, but Doc wasn't there. It had been a week since anyone had seen the science teacher, but his behavior was so unpredictable that nobody thought anything of it. Miss Ochoa, Doc's substitute, was practically a member of the permanent staff at this point. There were plenty of rumors about Doc that were often a topic of discussion amongst the students. The prevailing theory was that he had a dream of becoming an astronaut, but his dream was crushed once he reached the height of 6' 5"—one inch taller than the maximum allowable height at NASA. This was the beginning of his descent into madness, which even led to a short stint at a mental institution after being committed. There was also a claim that Doc was immortal and never aged. There was no actual evidence that any of this was true, although there were always claims of physical evidence that never seemed to get produced, like a photo from a newspaper showing Doc being escorted to the nuthouse in a straitjacket, or an old photograph from the 1950s showing Doc looking exactly the same as he did now. Nobody really knew why he asked to become the science teacher at Hill Valley, but since he was overqualified for the vacancy, very few questions were asked.

The school day couldn't go by quickly enough. Marty had been dreaming about performing on stage for as long as he could remember. If his band could perform well in the audition, they could actually get their first gig. After the final bell rang, Marty and his bandmates rushed to the school auditorium and began setting up their equipment. The judges, who sat at a table directly in front of the band, indicated that they were ready. Marty's band, The Pinheads, began playing their rendition of "Rock the Casbah" by The Clash. Jennifer stood nearby, admiring the performance.

But the head judge almost immediately began to look side to side at each of his colleagues. He picked up his megaphone. "Okay, that's enough." The band abruptly stopped playing. "I'm sorry fellas," he said. "These are auditions to perform at the dance. I'm afraid you just can't dance to this music. Next, please. Where's the next group, please."

Dejected, The Pinheads packed up their equipment and exited the stage. After loading their gear into the truck, Marty and Jennifer walked to nearby Courthouse Square and sat on a bench.

Jennifer broke the silence. "Can't dance to it!? I can't believe it!"

"One rejection isn't the end of the world," responded Marty.

"Yeah, but this was your chance to perform in front of a real audience."

"There will be other chances," Marty said optimistically. "I mean, there are better places to play than a stupid dance where the music is picked by a teacher. Besides, I have my demo tape of our original music that I'm going to send to the record company. Like my dad always says, 'If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.'"

"That's good advice, Marty," Jennifer replied, squeezing his hand.

"So, are you ready to take this truck up to the lake?" Marty said, changing the subject. "Throw a couple of sleeping bags in the back and lie under the stars?"

"Stop it."

"Does your dad know about tomorrow night?" asked Marty.

"No, get out of town! My dad thinks I'm going camping with the girls. He'd freak out if he knew I was going up there with you."

"He's just trying to keep you respectable," Marty grinned.

"Well, he's not doing a very good job." Jennifer leaned in for a kiss, but the moment was interrupted by a can of coins rattling in their faces.

"Save the clock tower! Save the clock tower!" chirped an old lady, nearly yelling. "Mayor Wilson is sponsoring an initiative to replace that clock. Thirty years ago, lightning struck that clock tower and the clock hasn't run since. We at the Hill Valley Preservation Society think it should be preserved exactly the way it is as part of our history and heritage."

"Here you go lady, here's a quarter," said Jennifer, dropping a coin into the can.

"Thank you," the lady said, holding out a piece of paper. "Don't forget to take a flyer."

Jennifer took the flyer, and the lady walked away yelling "save the clock tower" to no one in particular.

"Now, where were we?" Jennifer said to Marty. She leaned in and kissed him.

Later that afternoon, Marty pulled his truck in front of Jennifer's house. "I'll call you later tonight," he said as Jennifer climbed out of the truck.

"I'll be at my grandma's. Here, let me give you the number." She scribbled a phone number down on the back of the Preservation Society's flyer. "Bye!"

When Marty arrived at home, his family was already sitting down to an elegant dinner. Marty's older brother, still in his suit from his job at the office, was talking business with his father. Middle child Linda was talking on the phone, oblivious to her surroundings. Mother Lorraine entered the dining room with the final dish of the meal, setting it on the table. Linda finally hung up the phone.

"Boy oh boy mom, you sure can sous vide a chicken," said Linda.

"Done talking with Craig?" Dave teased.

"Daaave!" responded Linda, slightly annoyed.

"Oh, Dave? Didn't know there was a Dave in the mix too."

"For your information, it was Greg. Now, can we please eat dinner? Paul will be picking me up in an hour."

"Well, I can't keep up with all your boyfriends."

George turned to Marty. "How was the audition? I can't wait to hear The Pinheads in concert."

"Not so good. We didn't get the gig."

"Well Marty, those judges don't know what they're missing out on," Lorraine said, entering the conversation. "Do you know how many times your father was rejected before someone finally offered to publish his book?"

"Yes, we've heard this story a million times," interjected Linda. "When do we get to see a copy of this book, anyway?"

"Should be coming in any day now," responded George. "It's just like I always say, 'If you put your mind to it . . ."

"You can accomplish anything," repeated the whole family in unison.

"At least you've got your trip to the lake tomorrow to look forward to," Lorraine said encouragingly to Marty.

"That's right!" George said. "Biff will be coming to the house tomorrow. Why don't you leave your truck here in the morning and I'll make sure it gets cleaned and waxed before you head to the lake. Don't want to show up to your date in a filthy truck."

"Make sure he puts two coats of wax on this time," interjected Dave.

The McFlys sat down to eat dinner, and the support of his family helped Marty feel encouraged and confident about his music career. After dinner, he went to his room and packaged up his demo tape. He fell asleep on his bed without changing out of his clothes.

Well after midnight, Marty was startled awake by the ringing of his phone.

"Hello," Marty said groggily into the receiver.

"Marty! You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Doc said from the other end of the line.

"Uh, Mister—Doc," Marty sat up, correcting himself. "Uh, no. No, don't be silly."

"Listen, this is very important. I forgot my video camera, could you stop by my place and pick it up on your way to the mall?"

"Um, yeah, I'm on my way." Marty got out of bed and quietly grabbed his skateboard, trying not to wake his family. After he stopped by Doc's place to pick up the video camera, he headed to the mall.

As he approached Lone Pine Mall, Marty saw a big truck that looked like it may have been a repurposed bakery truck. On its side were the words "Dr. E. Brown Enterprises." Not knowing what he got himself into, Marty nervously looked around the parking lot for Doc. Einstein was sitting down nearby, staring at the truck.

"Einstein, hey Einstein," Marty said, petting the good-natured sheepdog. "Where's the Doc, boy, huh?"

At that moment, the back door of the truck began to open slowly, and a thick fog seeped out. As the door continued to open, it unfolded into a ramp. Marty and Einstein continued to stare as truck's brake lights became visible through the dissipating fog. An engine roared, and a stainless steel DeLorean with the license plate "OUTATIME" slowly backed out of the truck. After coming to a stop, the wing-like door of the DeLorean opened and Doc stepped out of the vehicle, staring absent mindedly into the distance and seemingly unaware of Marty or Einstein's presence.

"Marty!" he exclaimed, startled. "You made it."

"Yeah."

"Welcome to my latest experiment. It's the one I've been waiting for all my life."

"Um, well, it's a DeLorean, right?" Marty was clearly impressed.

"Bear with me, Marty. All of your questions will be answered. Roll tape, we'll proceed."

"Doc, is that a De—"

"Never mind that now, never mind that now."

"Alright, I'm ready."

Marty pulled out the video camera and began to record. Doc composed himself, stood up straight, and looked into the lens. "Good evening, I'm Dr. Emmett Brown. I'm standing in the parking lot of Lone Pine Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26, 1985, 1:18 A.M., and this is temporal experiment number one." He turned to Einstein and waved him towards the DeLorean. "C'mon, Einy, hey hey boy, get in there, atta boy, in you go, get down, that's it." Einstein jumped into the driver's seat of the car and Doc buckled him up. "Please note that Einstein's clock is in complete synchronization with my control watch." Doc held up both stopwatches, which simultaneously changed from 1:18 to 1:19.

"Right, check, Doc," Marty said as he continued to film.

"Good. Have a good trip Einstein, watch your head," Doc said to the dog as he closed the door to the DeLorean. He pulled out a remote control.

"You have that thing hooked up to the . . . car?" Marty asked Doc incredulously.

"Watch this," responded Doc, unwilling to give Marty any hints of what was about to occur. Doc began pushing the controls on the remote, and the car reversed quickly away from them. Doc continued to get the DeLorean in place as Marty, still filming, panned over from the car to Doc. "Not me, the car!" Marty quickly pointed the camera back on Einstein and the DeLorean.

The DeLorean was now in position on the opposite side of the mall parking lot, facing Marty and Doc. "If my calculations are correct," said Doc to Marty, "When this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious shit."

Marty was nervous. He knew that Doc was eccentric but mostly harmless, but this was Marty's first direct encounter with one of his experiments. Maybe the others were right. Maybe Doc was an insane and dangerous scientist.

There was no time to react. Marty was frozen when Doc hit the controls and the DeLorean's wheels started moving. The DeLorean, however, remained in place due to the tires being slightly elevated. As the wheels kept moving faster, the odometer on Doc's remote moved up.

20 . . . 30 . . . 40 . . .

Doc looked at Marty, Marty looked back. Doc's expression was one of excited anticipation, while Marty was wearing one of confusion and fear. Doc gave Marty a reassuring nod, although Marty didn't seem to take much comfort in it.

50 . . . 60 . . . 70 . . .

Doc flipped a switch on his controls and the car began moving at a good clip right towards them. Marty attempted to step out of the pathway of the car, but Doc grabbed him and pulled him back. "Watch this, watch this," Doc said to Marty.

80 . . . 85 . . . 86 . . . 87 . . .

The car was still headed right for them, and now they had no time to get out of the way. Marty closed his eyes, expecting never to open them again, when the DeLorean began glowing and electric sparks surrounded the vehicle.

88.

The car disappeared, and two fiery tracks trailed between Doc and Marty's legs where the DeLorean's tires should have been.

"You could've killed me!" yelled Marty.

"Ha, what did I tell you!" exclaimed Doc, oblivious to Marty's complaint. "Eighty-eight miles per hour. The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 A.M. and zero seconds."

All that remained from the DeLorean was the "OUTATIME" license plate that was spinning in the middle of the parking lot. Marty went to inspect the plate and burned his finger on the metal. "Hot, Jesus Christ, Doc! Jesus Christ, Doc, you almost killed us, you disintegrated Einstein! The old man has finally lost it." Marty muttered the last part to himself.

"Calm down, Marty, I didn't disintegrate anything. The molecular structure of Einstein and the car are completely intact."

"Where the hell are they?"

"The appropriate question is, _when_ the hell are they. Einstein has just become the world's first time traveler. I sent him into the future." Doc paused for dramatic effect. "One minute into the future to be exact. And at exactly 1:21 A.M. we should catch up with him and the time machine."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Doc, are you telling me that you built a time machine . . . out of a DeLorean?"

"The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine, why not do it with some style. Besides, the stainless steel construction made the flux dispersal—" Interrupted by a beeping on his watch, Doc grabbed Marty and pulled him to the side. "Look out!"

Doc yelled just in time, as they were still standing in original path of the DeLorean, which just reappeared after being displaced by a minute. The car came to a screeching stop and was covered with ice, but the heat from the engine caused a steaming effect. Doc hesitantly walked over to the time machine and touched the door handle. "Ahhhhh!"

"What, is it hot?" Marty asked Doc.

"It's cold. Damn cold." Doc lifted his foot to the handle of the door, the sound of crunching ice echoing into the night sky as he managed to open it. "Ha, ha, ha, Einstein, you little devil," Doc said, petting Einstein, who seemed completely unfazed by his little trip. "Einstein's clock is exactly one minute behind mine, it's still ticking!" Doc held his control stopwatch to Einstein's to prove his point.

"He's alright?"

"He's fine, and he's completely unaware that anything happened. As far as he's concerned, the trip was instantaneous. That's why Einstein's watch is exactly one minute behind mine. He skipped over that minute to instantly arrive at this moment in time. Come here, I'll show you how it works." Doc entered the car and sat down. "First, you turn the time circuits on." He flipped a switch in the center of the console, and a digital display showed three different rows. Each row had displays labeled "Month, Day, Year, Hour, Min," along with a button to indicate AM/PM. On the far right, there was an unlabeled value that read 01. "This readout tells you where you're going, this one tells you where you are, this one tells you where you were," Doc explained. "You input the destination time on this keypad. Say, you wanna see the signing of the Declaration of Independence," Doc said, flipping a switch.

Jul 04 1776 06 00 01

"Or witness the birth of Christ—"

Dec 25 0000 06 00 01

"Any date you want you can put in here." Doc input a default date value, then subtly flipped a switch without Marty noticing.

Oct 26 1985 01 24 00

"And of course, the part that makes time travel possible. The flux capacitor," Doc pointed to the center of the car, where the three pronged electric device was still dimly lit. "It's taken me almost thirty years and my entire family fortune to realize the vision of that day. My god, has it been that long? Things have certainly changed around here. I remember when this was all farmland as far as the eye could see. Old man Peabody, owned all of this. He had these crazy ideas about an alien invasion, he claimed one of them had destroyed his pine."

"This is uh, this is heavy duty, Doc, this is great," said Marty, interested in Doc's research for the first time. "And here I thought you were just some crazy, out of touch science teacher. Uh, does it run on regular unleaded gasoline?"

"Unfortunately no, it requires something with a little more kick. Plutonium."

"Uh, plutonium, wait a minute," Marty said as he set down the video camera, "Are you telling me that this sucker's nuclear?" Marty's attitude had quickly changed as he realized that Doc may in fact be a mad scientist.

"Hey, hey, keep rolling, keep rolling there," Doc said, directing Marty to pick the video camera back up. "No, no, no, no, this sucker's electrical. But I need a nuclear reaction to generate the one point twenty-one jigawatts of electricity that I need."

Marty set down the camera again, still in disbelief, "Doc, you don't just walk into a store and ask for plutonium. Did you rip this off?"

"Of course, from a group of Libyan nationalists," Doc said. "They wanted me to build them a bomb, so I took their plutonium and in turn gave them a shiny bomb case full of used pinball machine parts." He was nearly laughing, clearly pleased with successfully fooling the Libyans.

"Jesus," exclaimed Marty.

"Let's get you into a radiation suit, we must prepare to reload." Marty put on a yellow radiation suit while Doc opened a case meant to store fragile or dangerous materials. Inside there were 12 large vials, and Doc, now wearing his full hazmat suit and helmet, carefully grabbed one of the vials. Inside the vial was a long thin red tube suspended in a clear liquid. Marty, also now in a full hazmat suit, was recording. Doc then inserted the vial of plutonium into the DeLorean after unscrewing a device that was designed for these particular vials. The red tube was sucked out of the vial and Doc then returned it back to the case, now just filled with clear liquid.

Doc, now with his hazmat hood removed, grabbed his luggage and placed it in the DeLorean. He repeatedly looked at his watch, as if he were worried about the timing of his actions.

"The future, it's where you're going?" asked Marty, no longer recording Doc.

"That's right, twenty-five years into the future. I've always dreamed of seeing the future, looking beyond my years, seeing the progress of mankind. I'll also be able to see who wins the next twenty-five World Series."

"Uh, Doc."

"Huh?"

"Uh, look me up when you get there."

"Indeed I will," Doc glanced at his watch again, now seemingly realizing he must hurry. "Roll 'em!"

Marty picked up the video camera again and began recording Doc. "I, Doctor Emmett Brown, am about to embark on an historic journey." There was a faux confidence and a bit of nervousness in his voice. "What have I been thinking of, I almost forgot to bring some extra plutonium. How did I ever expect to get back, one pallet one trip, I must be out of my mind." As Doc walked over to the plutonium, Einstein, sitting in the truck wearing a customized hazmat suit and hood, was barking at something. "What is it Einy?" Doc looked around and saw something approaching in the distance. "Oh my god, they found me, I don't know how but they found me. Run for it, Marty!" Doc yelled, as if he had rehearsed it.

"Who, who!?"

"Who do you think, the Libyans!" Doc pointed at a blue VW bus approaching. A man popped out of the open sunroof with an automatic weapon pointed towards them.

Marty panned over, still recording, "Holy shit!" The Libyans began shooting, and Marty ducked behind the DeLorean as Doc attempted to dodge the approaching bullets that were hitting the truck.

"Unroll their fire!" yelled Doc. Marty looked back confused. Doc pulled out a gun as the Libyans continued to fire, but Doc apparently never bothered to learn how to use this weapon. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. In shock, he examined the gun by looking straight down the barrel.

"Doc, wait!" yelled Marty as Doc ran away from more bullets. Doc tried to protect himself behind the truck, but the Libyans cut him off. There was a pause, and the gunman in the bus pointed his automatic rifle at Doc. Doc put his hands up and threw his gun away. Marty looked with anticipation as the pause seemed to last forever. Gunfire broke the silence, with several bullets piercing through Doc's suit.

"Nooooooooo! Bastards!" yelled Marty. The Libyans, seemingly unaware of Marty until his outburst, turned toward him and began shooting. Marty ducked behind the truck, shielding himself from the oncoming bullets. He then tried to make a run for it around the other side of the truck but was cut off by the Libyans. Just like Doc, it seemed that Marty would meet his demise. The gunman pulled the trigger and Marty flinched, but as luck would have it, the gun was jammed. The gunman, frustrated, was furiously trying to get the rifle working. Marty snapped out of a state of shock and dived into the DeLorean. As he floored it, the Libyans followed close behind, now with a working rifle. As Marty put the car into gear, he bumped the time circuits on. He continued to evade the attackers, swerving in and out and accelerating, making the DeLorean a difficult target to hit. Marty was approaching 85 mph but took a quick right turn toward a JCPenney sign, decelerating in the process. The Libyans also made the turn, and in the rear view mirror Marty caught a glimpse of the gunman, who was setting down his rifle and grabbing a rocket launcher.

"Holy shit! Let's see if these bastards can do 90," Marty said to himself, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. He was headed right toward a kiosk in the middle of the mall parking lot, still approaching 90 mph, when a flash of light flickered, temporarily blinding him. Marty thought the rocket launcher had been fired and the flash of light was an explosion, but in a blink of an eye he was on the other side of the kiosk. The Libyans on the other hand appeared to have smashed right into the kiosk that was now on fire.

"How did I avoid the kiosk, I was headed right for it!" thought Marty. But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He rushed over to Doc. "Doc, doc, wake up," he said, as he softly slapped Doc on the face. It was useless. Doc had taken several bullets to the chest and he had no pulse. Marty heard sirens in the distance and did not have time to wonder who might have called the police. Instead, he only had time to consider what the police might conclude once they found 3 dead bodies, along with stolen plutonium and an experimental DeLorean. Fearing that he may be blamed, he grabbed his skateboard and the case and put it in the DeLorean. As he left the mall, he drove right by the "Twin Pines Mall" sign, now reading 1:46 A.M.

After getting a safe distance away, Marty stopped the car by a new neighborhood still partially under construction. He was near the back of the neighborhood where most homes were still in the early stages of construction. There was a billboard that read, "Hilldale, your future home."

"C'mon Marty, think," Marty said to himself. "I just need some time to figure this all out. Wait a minute, I have all the time I want, I'm sitting in a time machine!" Marty exclaimed, wondering why it took him so long to figure this out. While Marty never liked Doc, he certainly never wished for his death. Besides, he didn't want to go to prison for being involved in his death or his clearly illegal experiments. "If I just go back in time to before the Libyans arrive I can warn Doc before he gets killed." Marty put in the new destination time. "Thirty minutes ought to do it."

Oct 26 1985 01 16 01

With the time circuits now set, Marty let up the clutch and started to push down the gas when the DeLorean suddenly died. "No, no, c'mon," Marty attempted to restart the car, but the engine wouldn't turn over. Marty heard sirens once again, which put him in a panic. He put the DeLorean in neutral and pushed it behind the Hilldale sign. He then grabbed his skateboard and found a car cover in the trunk that he put over the DeLorean. He tried to hide the DeLorean even more by grabbing nearby branches and debris to cover it up.

Marty skateboarded home and was about to sneak into his bedroom window when he noticed the garage, wide open and empty. "My truck's been stolen!" he thought in shock. Just then, a bus stops nearby and Dave stepped out and walked toward the house wearing a Burger King uniform and hat. "Dave! Where the hell is it?" Marty yelled, pointing at the empty garage.

"Biff wrecked it, remember?"

"What was Biff doing driving my truck?"

"Your truck?"

"What are you wearing, Dave?"

"I always wear my uniform to work, my shift just ended. You alright?"

A police car suddenly pulled up. Marty was too confused and distracted to notice the sirens earlier. He decided to run for it, jumping over a fence into a neighbor's backyard. He then kept jumping over fences until he ended up on an adjacent street. Looking back through a hole in the fence he last hopped, he checked to see if he had been followed. Confident that he had lost them, he turned around only to catch a glimpse of a police officer with a nightstick . . .

WHACK!


	2. Chapter 2 - Ripple

Nov 13 1955 06 58 01

The Hill Valley storm was still raging as Doc remained soundly asleep on his couch. Exhausted from the night before, Doc had left on the TV, which was no longer broadcasting and was just displaying static. The picture turned on and the _Howdy Doody_ theme song began to play. Doc was startled awake. "Great Scott!" he yelled, to nobody in particular. He got up and stared incredulously at the television. He turned it off and walked over to his audio recording equipment.

"Sunday, November 13, 1955, 7:01 A.M.," Doc stated into the microphone. "Last night's time travel experiment was apparently a complete success. Lighting struck the clock tower at 10:04 P.M., sending the necessary 1.21 jigawatts into the time vehicle, which vanished in a flash of light and left a pair of fire trails behind. I assumed Marty and the time vehicle were transported forward through time to the year 1985." Doc paused momentarily. "Marty did mention something worrisome. His father 'laid out Biff,'" Doc said, repeating Marty's exact words in a deliberate manner. "Something he had never done in his life. This, of course, could have a monumental impact on future events. It is entirely possible, even probable, that the 1985 that Marty returned to is unrecognizable to him." Doc temporarily stopped recording to fill a tea kettle and place it on a lit stove. "In 'A Sound of Thunder,' Ray Bradbury posits that changing even an insignificant thing in the past could have a major impact on future events, even in the seemingly innocuous example of—"

Doc's train of thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Startled, Doc opened the door, and Biff, who was soaked from standing out in the storm, entered the house without an invitation.

"Where is he?" Biff demanded. He had clearly been up all night, drinking himself into a rage.

"Who?"

"Don't give me that. You know who, Calvin Klein."

"Who?"

"That son of a bitch cost me 300 bucks' damage to my car."

"Oh, right," Doc said, finally realizing who Biff was talking about. "He, um, had to go back home with his parents."

"The way I see it, old man," Biff said as he poked Doc in the chest, "If he ain't around to pay up, that's on you." He gestured at Doc's spacious house. "Clearly you can afford it."

"I thought you crashed it into a manure truck, what's that got to do with Marty?"

"Forget it," Biff frustratedly exclaimed. "I'll take this up with that no-good punk George McFly. Those two buttheads were in cahoots." Before slamming the door behind himself, Biff turned back around, pointing his finger at Doc. "This isn't over."

Doc stood, shocked at the implications and trying to piece everything together. "Killing a butterfly," he whispered softly to himself as a sound of thunder echoed outside.

Oct 26 1985 08 33 00

Marty began to stir himself awake. He was in his house and in his own bed, still wearing his orange vest.

"Mom? Mom, is that you?"

"There there now, just relax. You've been asleep for almost 7 hours," said Lorraine, comforting Marty.

"I had a horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I came home, but it wasn't really home. Dave was wearing some goofy uniform, we didn't have a car, and Biff..."

"Now now, Marty. You're safe and sound now, and the car will be back from the shop in a week," Lorraine said as she turned on the bedroom light.

"The shop!" Marty sat up immediately, realizing something was wrong. He looked over at Lorraine. "Mom?"

"What is it, Marty?"

"You look so...tired."

"Marty, are you feeling all right? The police still need to talk to you."

Marty rubbed his head, trying to figure out what was going on. "Why do the police want to talk to me?"

"They must've hit you over the head really hard. Well, they're waiting for you outside. Just let us know as soon as you're ready."

Marty felt like he had no choice. "Ok, just give me a few minutes to get dressed." Lorraine walked out of his bedroom, and as soon as she left, Marty jumped out of his bed, grabbed his skateboard, and ran to his window. After jumping outside, he didn't take more than two steps before he was confronted by a pair of police officers.

In the back of the police car, Marty couldn't believe or understand what he had gotten himself into. He wasn't sure if Strickland and Mr. Brown had set him up, or if he just had incredibly bad luck. Marty had never been arrested. In fact, he had never been in any trouble at all before the incident in Mr. Brown's chemistry class. In the class, about two years ago, Marty and his classmates were doing the assigned lab work, which in this case was to make their own homemade ice cream. Marty had followed the instructions closely, but when he added the vanilla it caused a huge explosion. Nobody was hurt, but it caused a lot of damage to school property. Despite Marty's pleas that it wasn't his fault, Strickland believed that Marty had brought an explosive agent with him to school in order to pull the prank. Strickland had threatened to report his behavior to the FBI but instead gave him two weeks detention and considered him a slacker ever since. Marty had always blamed Strickland for this and his subsequent detentions, but he wasn't able to convince anyone that it was serious. His parents believed him, but they considered it rather trivial. His father George said to him dismissively, "That bald bastard has been harassing students for decades. He used to always call me a slacker." Of course, this was followed up with something encouraging and hopeful.

It was nice to have the unconditional support of his parents, even if they wouldn't intervene, but the minor detentions had escalated into something more serious. Mr. Brown was dead, and before his death he may have been involved in some serious shit. Strickland was culpable in some way, Marty was sure of it. Strickland had to at least be aware of what Mr. Brown was doing. Did Strickland tip off the Libyans? Lastly, and maybe most concerning, Marty couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with his family. Dave's Burger King uniform must've been a Halloween costume he was trying out, but what about his mom? She looked like she had gained about 40 pounds overnight. Marty also had no explanation for his missing truck or the wrecked car, both of which were there and in good condition when he left the house just after 1:00 in the morning.

After arriving at the station, Marty was brought into an interrogation room. He sat in that small, cold room for what felt like an eternity. Finally, an overweight man entered the room. He was sloppily dressed, but seemed to be confident in his demeanor.

"Hi Marty, I'm Detective Clark. We were hoping you could help us out with whatever information you might have."

"Ok, about what?" Marty responded.

"There was an incident at the mall last night. Or rather, very early this morning. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

"Well, I...uh," Marty was stalling. He was trying to figure out how the detective would react if he told him that Mr. Brown needed plutonium for his time machine so he ripped off some terrorists. He didn't have to stall for too long though, because just a few seconds into his mumbling the door flung open. A man and a woman, both wearing black suits, burst into the room.

"We'll take it from here," said the man. Two other people followed them with boxes marked "evidence" and grabbed all of Detective Clark's papers and threw them in one of the boxes.

"What the hell is going on here, this is my murder case!" Detective Clark was clearly shocked and upset at this power play.

"This is now a federal matter," the man said, with almost no emotion in his voice.

"Since when does the FBI give a shit about a drive-by." No more words were exchanged, but the agents eventually cleared everything out, including Detective Clark and all his notes. This all felt surreal to Marty, like it had all been staged to intimidate him. Then again, he had felt out of place and unable to make sense of anything since Mr. Brown was murdered.

Eventually the woman re-entered the room. She was an attractive woman, in her early 30s, and while she was very serious and professional she also had a friendly demeanor.

"Can I get you anything? Are you hungry, thirsty?" she asked Marty in a friendly tone. It was clear that she was the "good cop" in this interrogation. It wasn't lost on Marty that this woman was chosen to question him because she was young and attractive and he was a 17 year old boy, but he still couldn't help to still feel at ease.

"Uh, yeah, could I get a Pepsi Free?"

"You got it." The woman returned quickly with Diet Pepsi. "I hope this is ok, this is all they have."

"That's fine, thank you."

"My name is Special Agent Cates, I would like to understand more about your relationship to Dr. Emmett Brown."

"My relationship?" Marty replied incredulously, "I barely know the guy."

"When did you first meet him?" Agent Cates asked patiently.

"Sophomore year, he was my chemistry teacher."

Agent Cates was looking through pages of notes, confused. "I'm sorry, was he your tutor?"

"No, he was my teacher."

"Dr. Brown isn't a teacher."

"What do you mean he isn't a teacher? I was in his class yesterday," Marty said incredulously, beginning to raise his voice.

"You saw Emmett Brown at Hill Valley High School yesterday?" The agent was scribbling down notes every time Marty responded, including things like "Lying or delusional?" She seemed more and more confused with each answer.

"No, he wasn't there. The substitute, Miss Ochoa, was teaching. I was finishing up detention at Mr. Brown's place in the morning."

"So you saw him yesterday morning at his house?"

"No, he wasn't there either."

Special Agent Cates stood up and walked out without saying a word. She re-entered the room minutes later with Jennifer, Marty's girlfriend. "Jennifer!" Marty exclaimed.

"Marty, what's going on. Are you ok?"

"Sit down, both of you," Agent Cates said, growing slightly impatient. "Now, Jennifer, please tell me again. How did Marty know Doctor Brown?"

"Marty has known Doc since we were like 13. Doc hired him to sweep and clean up the lab."

"What!?" an exasperated Marty interjected. "I never—"

"Please," Agent Cates cut him off. "Let her finish."

Jennifer took a deep breath, trying not to look at Marty. She didn't know why he was lying, but she had already told the detective the truth. Deciding that she didn't have a choice, she continued. "There were rumors about Doc being a mad scientist, so Marty wanted to see it for himself. He broke into Doc's garage, but Doc wasn't mad at Marty. Instead, he hired him."

"And that was when he was 13?" asked Agent Cates.

"Yes, they've been friends ever since."

"Thank you, Jennifer. Your dad is outside waiting for you. You are free to go."

Jennifer slowly got up, and as she left she turned to Marty and mouthed "sorry" to him. Jennifer and Marty each thought the other was lying. Jennifer assumed Marty was lying to protect Doc, and Marty thought Jennifer was lying because she was threatened by Strickland. "This is heavy," Marty muttered to himself.

"Shall we continue?" Agent Cates asked.

"What the hell was that, huh? Did you threaten my girlfriend to get her to lie about me?"

"Marty, slow down." She pulled out some papers. "This is a list of all the full-time faculty at Hill Valley High School." She then pulled out 3 different yearbooks. "This is the yearbook from your freshman, sophomore, and junior years at high school. Take a look, tell me if you see a Mr. Brown in there."

Marty looked at the roster and paged through the yearbooks. "This must be some kind of mistake."

"We also talked to your family and other students at school who all confirm that you knew Dr. Brown since you were 13 or 14 years old. Not as a teacher, but as a neighbor, a friend, and an employer."

"I have never—"

"We can get your class schedule for each semester and bring more people in if you like, or you can end this charade. Maybe this is all a game to you. So let me explain just how serious this is." She pulled out a picture and placed it on the table. "Do you know who this is?"

"I don't know, are you going to tell me he's my science teacher?"

"Muammar Gaddafi."

"Who?"

"The revolutionary terrorist leader of Libya." That last word struck Marty as he began to put some of this together. Agent Cates continued, "We have intel that links Dr. Brown to a group of Libyan nationalists associated with terrorism." She pulled out a picture of Mr. Brown's dead body. "Early this morning, Dr. Emmett Brown died from a gunshot wound at Twin Pines Mall." Marty was too shocked to notice that Agent Cates got the name of the mall wrong. She then pulled out two other pictures of badly burned dead bodies. "These two men were also found on the scene, although they were several hundred yards away from Dr. Brown's body. They are on the terrorist watch list. We found detailed plans to use a nuclear bomb to detonate at the First Interstate Tower in downtown Los Angeles. We also found a fake bomb made of old pinball machine parts in the same building." Agent Cates stopped to allow Marty to absorb everything that was put in front of him. "The real question is, why are you lying?"


	3. Chapter 3 - Probability

Nov 14 1955 14 53 01

Doc had been giving a lot of thought to Marty's photograph. Did he really see Marty's brother begin to disappear? Why, or how, would a physical object change its attributes based on the probability of an occurrence in a new timeline?

"A new timeline," Doc said to himself. He was sitting in his car reading "A Sound of Thunder" outside of Hill Valley High School. Wearing the same coat he wore on Saturday night, he repeatedly put his hand in his pocket and rubbed the torn pages of Marty's letter between his fingers. Biff and his crew were loitering and smoking in front of the school rather than attending their class. Biff seemed like his typical self. If anything, the events at the Enchantment under the Sea dance made him more angry and ready to take it out on anyone in his way. Doc feared that George may be the target of these aggressions. Doc was no romantic, but he knew the ultimate success of his mission was dependent on George and Lorraine getting married and having kids. Specifically, three kids. If not, Marty would not exist at all.

This brought Doc back to the photograph. He saw it before Marty had gone back to the future. All three siblings were fully visible, but how definitive could that be? This was a photograph that changed significantly over a span of a week of Marty being here, Doc thought. Now that Marty is no longer here, is it predetermined? This made sense to Doc. He figured that since everybody in the present is from the present, there was no longer a disruptor of the space time continuum. Doc may have told himself he was convinced of this, but that didn't stop him from driving to the school to keep an eye on Biff to ensure George and Lorraine stayed together. It didn't help that he had a message about the future sitting in his pocket, and he himself knew way too much about several people's futures. How did the photograph know what he would likely do with this information? Did he not have free will? Did anyone have free will?

The bell rang and students began to exit the school. As expected, Biff spotted George and started walking over to him "Hey McFly!" he yelled. "What are you doing walking around with my girl?"

Lorraine interjected, "Biff, I think you've embarrassed yourself enough."

"C'mon Lorraine, you know we are destined to be together," Biff replied as Doc continued to eavesdrop from his nearby car.

Biff reached out to grope Lorraine, but George grabbed his arm before the assault could occur. "Biff, keep your damn hands off her," he growled. Biff was shocked. He had assumed that the alcohol had given McFly the backbone to approach him on Saturday night. George then leaned in closer and spoke to Biff in just above a whisper, "The charade is over you son of a bitch, I know now that you are nothing but a coward. In fact, the whole school knows. You can keep coming at me, but I will defend myself now. And if you ever touch Lorraine, or anyone else without their permission again..." George didn't finish his sentence. He didn't actually know what the end of the sentence would be. Would he kill him?

Biff began laughing mockingly. "Okay George, whatever you say." Biff turned and addressed Lorraine, "we all know this won't last because you're my girl."

"Ugh, gross," Lorraine reacted. "I wouldn't be with you if you were the last man on earth."

Biff walked away along with the rest of his gang. Doc, still lurking from his car, had reason to be encouraged by what he saw, as Biff's retaliation seemed to have failed. It appeared that the photograph was right. "The future is no longer a probability, but a certainty," thought Doc. Feeling relieved, he decided to focus his efforts on his research.

Oct 27 1985 10 28 00

Marty was just beginning to wake up in his bed. He stayed asleep for as long as possible trying to sleep away this bad dream. Between wake and sleep, Marty decided his parents were probably already at brunch. This was how they spent most late Sunday mornings. Dave, who had been putting in extra hours in the office over the weekends looking for that promotion, was probably already on the bus on his way to work. Linda was likely on the phone with Greg, Craig, or whoever else she had dates with this weekend.

Marty's in-between thoughts were interrupted by a booming voice coming from the living room. "What the hell is this? I thought I told you to re-type my report!" Biff yelled.

Now awake, Marty sighed and looked out the window. There were two police officers parked out front. Agent Cates was keeping an eye on him.

"Now Biff, you asked me to get it to you yesterday so you would have time to get it re-typed," George patiently explained. Marty got out of bed and walked out into the living room. Only it wasn't his living room. Instead of the normal, pristine room, it was messy and decorated with shabby furniture.

"And you expected _me_ to re-type it?" Biff yelled.

"I just thought," cowered George.

"And get typewriter ink all over my hands?" Biff laughed. Marty entered the room slowly and caught Biff's eye. "What are you looking at jailbird?"

"Okay, Biff, I'll re-type it and bring it over tonight," said George apologetically.

"Not too late though, I go to bed early on Sunday nights." Biff sauntered over to the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee and then took a sip. "I drive all the way out here on a Sunday morning, and all you have for me is decaf?" Biff walked out, with the mug of coffee still in hand. Before walking out the door, he addressed Marty. "Say hi to your mom for me."

Biff got in his car and quickly went in reverse. He stopped suddenly and spilled a little bit of decaf coffee on himself before driving off. George grabbed the papers with Biff's name on it, but written in his handwriting, and sat down at his typewriter to begin working.

Marty walked over to his father. The room was silent except the slow but consistent clicking of the typewriter. Before Marty could speak, George broke the silence. "He was right, and I was wrong."

"Dad, dad. What are you saying? You're actually defending him!" exclaimed Marty, frustrated and confused.

"I had it coming, he's my supervisor and he deserves our respect."

"Respect! Your supervisor? How can he be your supervisor?" Marty was losing all composure. He had endured an entire day of questioning, but his nightmare was far from over. Since he was still under suspicion, Agent Cates wouldn't let him go anywhere without being watched, and he hadn't come any closer to understanding anything that had happened since early Saturday morning. He knew that he needed to get back to the DeLorean before anyone, especially Agent Cates, found it. He decided to wait until late in the night to sneak out. He would have to lose the officers, get to the time machine, and travel back to before Doc was killed. That crazy son of a bitch was the only person who could help Marty at this point.

Marty spent the rest of the day laying low and trying to figure out how to sneak out. He couldn't go out his bedroom window, the police would be expecting that. He would have to come up with some sort of a distraction. His brother Dave was now eating dinner before his night shift at Burger King. He was watching _The Honeymooners_ as George was still typing away at the typewriter. George would turn his head to watch the punch lines that he had seen dozens of times and would start laughing, which would in turn make Dave start laughing. The whole thing seemed off to Marty, but he was done freaking out. "This is like an episode of _The Twilight Zone_ ," Marty whispered to himself.

This was probably just an elaborate practical joke, right? This must be some kind of punishment from Strickland. How did he convince his whole family to play along? Dave probably thought it was hilarious. The Burger King job must've been his idea. In fact, Dave might be the mastermind behind the whole thing. He probably hadn't even been working late at the office, it was just his cover to prepare this joke. Marty laughed to himself. How could he be so gullible? The phone rang, and a moment later Linda came into his room.

"Marty, Jennifer is on the phone. You really need to start paying me more," Linda teased.

"What?"

"For working as your answering service."

Perfect. Jennifer wouldn't be able to keep lying to him. Marty picked up the phone. "The jig is up, Jennifer, very good. Did Dave put you up to this?"

"Marty, I'm worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," Marty replied. "Who organized all this?"

"Organized what?" Jennifer asked, sounding bewildered. "Why were you telling the police that you barely knew Doc? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is Doc okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine. Wait, you never call Mr. Brown 'Doc.'"

"There are rumors that he died, that he was killed by some terrorists or something?"

Marty was starting to feel nervous. He assumed she would break by now. "Sorry we couldn't go to the lake. It would've been so beautiful to lay out under the stars in the truck."

"Marty, the car was wrecked. You told me so Friday night. Besides, considering everything..."

"What car? We were going to take my truck." Marty was grasping at straws now. Hoping for anything that would give an indication that it was all a joke.

"Marty, I know you've been through a lot, but you're not making any sense. Are you talking about that 4x4 from Statler you were daydreaming about on Friday?"

It was undeniable now. Jennifer would never be able to lie to him for this long. "It's okay, I'll figure something out." He hung up the phone and now knew he needed to get to the DeLorean. He wasn't exactly sure how the time machine worked, but Doc showed him how to use the time circuits. If he could get the car started, he could go back in time and force Mr. Brown to fix whatever mess his creation caused. Marty didn't know how, but he was sure that Mr. Brown caused some sort of warped reality with his experiments. "Why didn't I pay more attention during detention?" Marty wondered to himself.

After everyone else went to sleep, Marty grabbed his skateboard and put it in his backpack. He quietly went out into the living room and opened the sliding glass door. He jumped onto the fence so he could get onto the roof. From the top of the roof, Marty was able to see that there was a police car in front of the house and one on the block behind the house. If he could get to the adjacent road through the backyard of his neighbor, he might be able to get out undetected.

Marty was able to get to his neighbor's backyard and was about to hop the last fence when he heard footsteps. "Did you hear something?" he heard one officer ask another.

"No, I don't think so," the other answered. They turned on their flashlights and began searching the area and looking through the wooden fence. As the flashlights worked their way closer and closer, Marty noticed a tennis ball on the grass nearby. Marty grabbed the ball and quietly tossed it over the fence to a neighbor he knew had a dog, which began to bark. "It's just a dog. Let's go back to the car. It's almost time to change shifts."

After waiting for the officers to leave the area, Marty made it over the final obstacle of Lyon Estates and was off to freedom. He headed to the Hilldale sign where the DeLorean was hidden. When Marty arrived, it appeared that the DeLorean had not been disturbed. Luckily it was the weekend, and the workers building the new houses had not likely been back. He uncovered the car and put the key in the ignition and turned it. "C'mon, c'mon," Marty muttered as the engine struggled to turn over. Finally the car started and the time circuits and flux capacitor lit up. "Yes! Alright, here we go," he exclaimed. "It looks like the time circuits are set. October 26th, 1985, 1:16 in the morning. Now, let's get this thing up to 88 miles per hour, save Doc, and get the hell out of whatever this place is."

Marty drove out to the main road and floored it. The digital speedometer jumped up. 60...70...80. Marty closed his eyes waiting for the flash of light and the tire trails of fire. 90…

Nothing happened. "Did it work?" Marty asked himself. He drove to Lone Pine Mall and looked at the sign. "Has that always said Twin Pines mall?" he wondered. Then he noticed the time on the sign, 11:13 PM. It was still October 27th. Marty knew because of the time, and because of the police tape surrounding the crime scene around Mr. Brown's truck that was used to transport the DeLorean.

Frustrated, Marty was trying to think of what could have gone wrong. He looked out at the mall parking lot, where he noticed that there was also a chalk outline where Mr. Brown had fallen dead after the machine gun bullets penetrated through the radiation suit. "The plutonium, of course!" Marty exclaimed, realizing he needed a refill of the radioactive material in order to work the machine. Marty knew the plutonium was in Mr. Brown's truck, so he walked past the police tape to find it. He searched everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found.

It was a long shot. The police must've returned it to the research lab it was stolen from. Mr. Brown had to have some more in his lab. Marty drove to the messy garage that Mr. Brown used as a lab. Marty broke into the garage and began searching. "Where is it, where is it?" Marty kept asking himself as he threw papers, unpaid bills, old newspaper clippings, and discarded gadgets out of his way.

As Marty was still searching, a voice addressed him from the now broken door. "You must be Mr. McFly." A German accent echoed throughout the small garage.

Marty spun around to see a dark haired young woman standing in the doorway. "Yeah, well, who the hell are you?" That was the best he could come up with. He was sure he was caught and would be hauled back to the police station.

"My name is Sofia Von Braun."


	4. Chapter 4 - Timeline(s)

Oct 1 1958 21 47 01

The math and theory behind time travel wasn't nearly as difficult as it might seem. Of course, Doc already had the answers - 1.21 jigawatts, 88 mph, flux capacitor - he just needed to fill in the details. It was like doing math homework to the odd numbered questions. Of course, just because he could write the proof didn't mean he could travel through time. That part would need to wait until he could pick up some plutonium in the future or predict another lightning strike. If only he still had his credentials at Los Alamos, he was sure he would be able to steal the needed radioactive element for his experiment. Of course, the Manhattan Project had been disbanded for over a decade now.

Getting up to 88 mph was not a simple task either, and even if Doc spent his dwindling fortune on a new Ferrari or Corvette, it possibly wouldn't be able to produce the necessary flux dispersal. Using a 1950s car, without a stainless steel body, Doc would either need to increase the velocity or increase the electrical output to make up for the loss of flux dispersal.

The previously pristine and organized detached garage at 1640 Riverside was now a chaotic mess. Mail, papers with formulas and notes scribbled on them, trash, and other debris were scattered throughout the two-car space. A number of letters had the words "Past Due" and "Final Notice" in big red letters on them. Sitting on top of a pile of papers was a letter from NASA addressed to Doc that began, "We regret to inform you." Doc had applied to the NASA program to be one of their scientists, but the psych evaluation he underwent was considered inconclusive and he was deemed too much of a risk. His Top Secret clearance he had while working on the Manhattan Project was no longer valid; in fact, he had it revoked just before they pulled the plug on the entire project.

The only part of the garage that wasn't covered in an unorganized scattering of papers was a single table, where a ripped up sheet of paper lay pieced together face down as if it were a puzzle. Doc had not been able to convince himself to destroy the letter, but he still refused to read it. The impact of knowing his future was still unknown, and self-preservation was enough to keep Doc from burning that bridge completely.

"To understand time travel it is necessary to understand the nature of time," Doc said into his audio recorder. "In order to do this I will need to answer one important question: is our timeline mutable or immutable?" Doc assumed this question was easy; he knew that Marty came to 1955 from the future and changed the futures of his parents, Biff, and potentially all of mankind. On the chalkboard under "Mutable," Doc wrote his bulleted assumptions:

 _Marty is actually from the future_

 _Marty's parents told him the truth about how they met_

Doc had no reason to disbelieve these assumptions, but he felt it was important, scientifically, to remain unbiased. "Of course, there remains the possibility that the timeline is immutable," Doc began to consider out loud. "This would of course mean that Marty misunderstood the circumstances of how his parents met, because the only version of November 12, 1955, would be the version that Marty and I experienced together." Just the mention of Marty's name out loud had more of an impact on Doc than he expected. Doc always prioritized his work over socializing. Despite this, Doc couldn't deny it. He missed his friend.

Snapping himself out of it, Doc called out to his dog. "Here, Copernicus!" Doc sat down, then Copernicus jumped onto his lap. "If time is immutable, an individual's own experience, such as Marty's, may not be linear, but the timeline of events remains unchanged. From the perspective of time, Marty's experiences during his week long visit to 1955 impacted his own future, even before he himself experienced it. Going back in time, even to intentionally change history, will only reinforce its events, since these choices have already been factored into the present." Doc had nearly convinced himself of this theory, but there remained too many seemingly impossible factors: the photographic evidence, the story of how his parents met, plus the uncharacteristic behavior of his father. This would also eliminate any sort of free will, since everything that will happen is already predestined.

"No, the immutable timeline theory could not apply, at least not in the first iteration. With infinite iterations a mutable timeline could become immutable. It wouldn't be immutable by nature, but simply because actors continue to act in an exact manner under identical circumstances in some type of infinite loop." Copernicus jumped off of Doc's lap, and Doc was now pacing back and forth, holding his audio recording device with the microphone to his face. "Of course!" Doc exclaimed. "Multiple iterations! A specific timeline is not mutable, but instead the act of traveling to the past itself creates a unique—a separate and distinct timeline where each coexist simultaneously."

Doc walked over to the chalkboard excitedly, grabbed the chalk, and wrote "two timelines" on the board. "This, being the first iteration of time travel has created an additional timeline," Doc continued. "There is the timeline where Marty's parents meet and fall in love without any interference from Marty. This is of course the prime timeline Marty grew up in. There is also a timeline where Marty comes back, interferes with his parents, and changes history. There may be similarities between the two, such as Marty being born, but make no mistake, it is a separate existence with separate people who may have identical DNA." Doc was getting increasingly more excited about his breakthrough. "So when I sent Marty back to the future—" Doc paused, now with concern on his face. "Great Scott!"

Oct 27 1985 23 23 00

Marty stood in Doc's garage, waiting. The German woman told him her name, but nothing else. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Marty finally yelled, breaking the silence.

"I thought you were friends with Doc." Sofia responded, a little confused.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? Mr. Brown was my teacher."

"What? So you know nothing about Doc's past?" Marty shook his head. "Do you know anything about his experiments?"

"A little."

"How can you be his research assistant and partner?"

"Can you just tell me what the hell is going on? Do you work with the FBI? No, not with that foreign accent. Interpol? Am I in trouble in Australia now, too?"

"You think my accent sounds Australian? Have you ever met an anyone from Australia?"

Before Marty could respond they hear sirens in the distance. "You have the DeLorean?" Sofia asked.

Marty was caught off guard. Sofia seemed just as worried about the approaching police as he was. "Um...yeah."

"Quick, let's go!" Marty decided that going with Sofia in the DeLorean was a better option than sticking around and waiting to get arrested. Sofia grabbed the keys from Marty and they both ran to the DeLorean. They quickly sped off, unseen by the police.

Marty had been in a state of confusion all day. He was trying to figure out what questions to ask Sofia when she finally broke the silence. "Erhardt von Braun."  
"What?"

"He's my great uncle."

"Who?"

"Doctor Emmett Brown's father."

"Oh shit, you're related to Mr. Brown? So he's your cousin? No, that's not right."

"His father is my grandfather's brother."

Marty still trying to figure it out, "I'm going to have to look at a family tree or something."

"I am giving you answers, so I am going to need some answers from you."

"Before we do that, I have a few questions of my own. Starting with, where the hell are we going?"

"I have a motel room just outside of town, we can lay low there while we figure things out. Can I ask you some questions?"

"Sure."

"How long have you been in the wrong timeline?" While Marty was too shocked and exhausted to begin to try to answer the question, he did feel relief that someone recognized his situation for what it was.

"Wrong timeline" Marty muttered to himself. He finally had a term for what was happening, even though he still didn't know what it meant. Marty opened his mouth to speak, but before he could make a noise, Sofia pulled into the motel.

"Why don't you get settled in, I have a change of clothes for you." Marty went into the room and instantly fell onto the bed. With all the excitement he hadn't realized just how tired he was. He fell asleep almost instantly, fully clothed once again. While he still had still had many outstanding questions, he was comforted by the idea that someone may be able to understand, and perhaps correct, the current nightmare.

Marty began to stir himself awake. He had a terrible headache and couldn't make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings. "Gotta get up and go to school," thought Marty. He slowly opened his eyelids and sat up quickly. The details of the previous night were slowly coming back to him.

"Unfortunately for you, it wasn't a dream," Sofia called out from across the room, which Marty finally realized was a grungy motel room. She was sitting at a desk looking through papers.

Marty sat up, now fully awake. "God. Is this place hell?"

"It's not hell, it's the effects of time travel," Sofia said.

"I can't imagine hell being much worse. Wait, time travel? I haven't travelled through time-"

"Well, in your case, you travelled sideways to an alternate universe."

"Alternate universe? Well, that explains—"

"The original Marty must've—"

"Whoa, wait. Original Marty!?" interrupted Marty. "Are you telling me that I'm some kind of—clone!?"

"Take a look at this," Sofia said, choosing to ignore Marty's last question. She laid out Doc's notes, including a drawing of the time circuits. "These are Doc's plans I took from his lab."

Marty slowing walked over, rubbing his eyes. "The time circuits!" Marty said excitedly. "Mr. Brown showed this to me. Month, day, year, and time. I don't get what this has to do with—"

"And this," Sofia interrupted as she pulled out a sketch, "is what the time circuits look like on the DeLorean outside. Notice anything different?"

Marty looked back and forth between the two, unable to see the difference. "This extra column," Sofia finally pointed out, showing him the extra unlabeled boxes in her sketch. "You may not have noticed, but your DeLorean has an extra number to the right of the time."

"Is it for seconds?"

"I don't think so. I noticed this last night. But this means that the person who wrote these plans is not the same person who built that time machine," Sofia said, pointing outside to the DeLorean. "These plans were used to build the original time machine."

"Original, original. Why do you keep saying that? Are we not real?"

"Not _we_ , just you. But no, you are very much real. You see, different dimensions are created iteratively."

"English, Sofia!"

"I don't understand, I am speaking English."

"No, I mean...just explain it again using simpler words."

"Ok." Sofia grabbed a blank piece of paper and drew a line on it. "Imagine this is the original timeline, we'll call it timeline 1. In this timeline Doc invents a time machine, and at some point it is used to go back in time."

"Except he didn't go back in time, he died before he could use his invention."

"As far as you know, but you aren't from the original timeline. You are from this timeline." Sofia draws a slanted line coming down from the original timeline, then another line parallel to the original and labels it "Timeline 2."

"Whoa, this is heavy."

"You see, the time machine was used to go back in time, and in that process something changed and that created a new timeline."

"Why do you assume that you're the original? Isn't it just as likely that I'm the original, and everyone here are copies."

"Not copies, just from universe 2."

"Whatever, universe 2! Clearly someone really messed up somewhere and created this hell hole that we are in now." Marty didn't want to believe what he was hearing, but it was really the only thing he had heard that could explain any of this. "So, let's assume that you are right, and I am from a different universe. Then where is the Marty from this universe?"

Sofia looked up at Marty with the pencil resting in her mouth. "That is the question now, isn't it?" She pointed at Marty with her pencil as she continued. "He seems to have disappeared at the same time that you appeared, so my initial theory is that you have switched places."

"Switched places? Like _Freaky Friday_?"

"Freaky what?"

"Friday, the movie. With Jodie Foster." Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Marty changed thoughts. "Does this mean that my life has been stolen by...me?"

"Precisely. And I believe the DeLorean that we have is not only a time machine, but a vehicle to travel to alternate dimensions. The additional column, while unlabeled, is unmistakably a universe indicator."

Marty continued to ask questions as Sofia attempted to get clarification on details of how and when Marty traveled from his universe to the this one. As the discussion continued it became clear that they needed to use the machine to travel to universe 2. They set out to figure the best time to try to find the original Marty to get more answers and get each to the proper home.

"I can't imagine he wants to come back here either, though. Did he do this to me on purpose?" Marty began to wonder what he would be capable of if he grew up in this reality. Would he intentionally ruin someone else's life?

"There is no evidence of that. For all we know this was accidental, and the Marty from this universe is just as lost as your are."

Sofia and Marty exited the motel room and got into the DeLorean. Sofia began to drive away from Hill Valley as Marty was taking a closer look at the time circuits, noticing the extra column. It was still daylight, and the FBI were likely still looking for them, but they were now so far into the desert that they hadn't see another person for miles. Sofia stopped near a long stretch of paved road. "There is no time to waste."

"We got all the time we want, we're sitting in a time machine," Marty responded. Despite the irony though, Marty knew Sofia was right. The longer they spent in this universe, the more likely it was that the authorities would find them and continue to ask questions that didn't have believable answers.

"This should be enough road to get up to 88 miles per hour," Sofia said as she started touching the dials of the time circuits. "We know we have to go to universe 2." She flipped a switch to make the last column display the number 2. "But when was it that you first entered this universe?"

"It had to have happened when I was at Lone Pine Mall, where Doc got killed, early Saturday morning."

"Let's set it for 2:00 AM October 26th," Sofia said as she entered the coordinates. "We are a couple hours outside of Hill Valley, and then we can lay low until morning." Marty and Sofia got out of the car and put on hazmat suits to refill the DeLorean with plutonium.

Just as they completed the transfer of radioactive material, an old man in a beat-up pickup truck pulled alongside them, yelling and taking pictures with his camera. "Who do you work for, the FDA? FBI? Are you poisoning our water? Trying to brainwash us with fluoride!?"

Marty took off his hazmat helmet. "Get the hell out of here! It's none of your business."

"Keep your helmet on!" Sofia said to Marty in a hushed voice.

"It's my business if the government is using alien technology to spy on its citizens! What kind of futuristic device is this, anyway?"

"We gotta go," Sofia said. She pushed Marty into the DeLorean and managed to get in the driver's seat herself while the man continued to yell.

"I'll be sending these to the _Weekly World News_ ," the old man yelled as he ran back to his truck to follow the DeLorean. The pickup truck was no match for the speed of the DeLorean. The old man looked out into the distance as he saw the futuristic car shrinking, but not quite disappearing in the long straight desert road, until he saw what unmistakably looked like two lines of fire. As he got closer to the fire trail left by the tires, he stared in shock. He took picture after picture of the fire until he finished his roll of film. He slowly wound the film, the subtle clicking sounds from each stroke of his thumb breaking the otherwise silent desert road. He then took the film out of the camera, put it into an envelope to be developed, grabbed a pen and wrote a note on the envelope: "spontaneous combustion."


	5. Chapter 5 - Alternate

Oct 24 1962 00 33 01

"What the hell does he know?" said an old man in an Army uniform. The four stars on each shoulder were barely visible through the smoke he just exhaled from his cigar. "We need to unfuck this."

"But how? We already gave our unanimous recommendation to attack and invade," responded another uniformed man, contributing his own share of smoke to the dark room. "This would all be different if…" He stopped himself before he said out loud what most, if not all the other, men in the room were thinking: they needed a hawk like Nixon, but instead they were stuck with Kennedy.

"What if all options were on the table?" asked the Army four-star general and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Sir," a third man spoke up, a four-star general in his own right, as he shuffled through a stack of papers. "As you know, there are several plans in the works. The contaminated cigar, which is in the hands of the double agent. The femme fatale, we have confirmation that the mistress successfully smuggled the poison to Havana. We are also working on a contaminated diving-suit and an explosive conch shell to place where we know that Fidel goes snorkeling."

"None of that will work, we are too far down this path, the Russians have nukes just a couple hundred miles away from Miami," the chairman growled out of frustration. "We need a better option. If only we could have stopped those missiles from reaching Cuba in the first place."

"Sir?" a quiet voice timidly interrupted, coming from the man who had the shortest tenure as a general. "That may be possible".

"What's possible!?" the chairman roared back.

"Th-that we could prevent the missiles from ever reaching Cuba."

"What are you talking about, the missiles are already there! Let's start talking about practical solutions," the chairman said, growing impatient.

"B-but sir, if I may. According to my sources, one of our most brilliant scientists in the Manhattan project is on the verge of perfecting time travel. If we can weaponize this technology before the second world does, it will give us a permanent military advantage." The timid general realized he may have spoken out of turn and wasn't encouraged by the long silence. Finally the chairman spoke.

"Where is this man?"

"He is currently in California, operating out of his residence in Hill Valley."

"Great." The chairman took a long puff from his cigar and exhaled, filling the cloudy room with a fresh batch of smog. "We'll send Lomax and Groves."

Later that morning, retired Lieutenant General Groves and Colonel Lomax received their orders to track down Doctor Emmett Brown and were driving through the California desert en route to Hill Valley. The only reason the DoD was aware of Doctor Brown was because of Groves and Lomax. Groves had hired Doc to work on the Manhattan project and was impressed by his work. Lomax, who worked for Groves at that time, had realized that Doc was less interested in Oppenheimer's goal of building a bomb, and more interested in other avenues that nuclear technology could bring. Lomax had kept an eye on Doc, both during and after the Manhattan project, as he believed that Doc would invent the next major technological breakthrough. He included these thoughts in his reports he sent to the DoD.

"You think he's capable of making time travel a reality?" Groves asked Lomax.

"I think he might have already invented it," Lomax responded confidently.

"On the project there were several reports that he, well, wasn't all there."

"He may be unconventional," Lomax agreed, "but he was always the most brilliant scientist we had."

"That may be, but sometimes the most skilled personnel are the worst at completing tasks, and we don't have a lot of wiggle room here." Lomax had no response to Groves' concerns, but they didn't have to sit in silence for too much longer, as they were now pulling onto Riverside Drive.

They both exited the vehicle and stared in shock at what was left of the house at 1640. A man approached them as they continued to take in the view with their mouths agape.

"Hello gentlemen, I'm Goldie Wilson," the energetic man hands them each a flier from his stack of papers. "I'm running for district council and would appreciate your vote. November 6th, be sure to vote for Goldie Wilson."

Completely ignoring the content of the pitch, Lomax addressed Goldie, "What happened to this house?"

"Oh, Doc's house? It burned down more than two months ago," Goldie responded, then continued in a quieter tone. "If you ask me, he burned down the place himself."

"Why would he do that?" Lomax asked Goldie.

"Rumor is the crazy old kook has already burned through his family fortune, so he decided to cash in on the insurance money so he could continue with his loony experiments."

Goldie asked for their vote again and continued down the street, knocking on doors and handing out fliers.

"Insurance fraud? This is what he's become?" asked Groves rhetorically.

"You were right, he must've really gone off the deep end," Lomax said.

"C'mon, let's go. This is a waste of time," Groves turned to the car. "Let's go with our backup option."

Both men got back into the car and drove off, leaving the plot of land that was nothing but ash and ruin except for a freestanding garage that remained standing and in pristine condition.

Oct 26 1985 02 00 02

With a blast of blue light the DeLorean appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The desert highway was abandoned and pitch black. Marty examined his surroundings. "Did we make it? Am I home?"

"It appears so," Sofia responded, "But remember, there are now two of you here, and there may be two of me, it's unclear whether I came to the United States in this timeline."

"What? Two of me?"

"Yes! Remember? The original you seemingly went back in time to create this timeline. Your timeline. Then you used the DeLorean and accidentally came to my timeline, the original timeline," Sofia explained, losing a bit of her patience.

"Right, ok. So take me home, I want to see my family," Marty said excitedly.

"We can't, because if we go to your home in this timeline, the other you will be there. And if you run into your other self in front of your family all hell could break loose."

"Right, ok. Then what do we do?" Marty asked.

"It's 2:03. If the timeline we discussed is right, then you left this universe about 30 minutes ago," Sofia explained. "Let's go to the mall, but be careful. We'll have to keep our distance. We just want to confirm that the other you in fact came here and took your spot."

Sofia began driving towards Hill Valley while Marty turned on the radio. Unsatisfied with the music he kept searching for better stations when he came across a news report. The voice from the radio said, "President Nixon visited the colony of Nicaragua for the first time since its annexation and gave a speech stating that capital punishment will be considered for all Sandinistas and Sandinista sympathizers. He also-"

"Ugh," Marty said before beginning to look for something less boring.

"Wait!" Sofia exclaimed, "Go back to the news report." Marty was uninterested in whatever foreign affairs the report was discussing but submitted to her request. "Was Nicaragua a territory in your timeline?" she asked.

"I don't know," Marty shrugged.

"The president also answered questions about his party's economic bill meant to boost the economy, while denying that the current job market was stagnant and dismissed the label of a recession," the female voice from the radio continued. "Former European allies have refused to lift sanctions against the U.S., citing human rights violations and a deterioration of democratic systems."

"Who was president?" Sofia asked, with more panic in her voice.

"What?" Marty asked.

"Who was president in your timeline?"

"Ronald Reagan. What the hell is going on?" Marty asked, not fully comprehending the context of Sofia's questions or the news report.

"This doesn't add up, something is wrong," Sofia confirmed to herself.

"Vice President Kissinger argued that the Republicans' bill would create jobs by removing unnecessary regulations. Most notably, the bill would legalize gambling in all 50 states, a provision that has been aggressively pushed by the Tannen-funded lobbyists. Tannen has successfully lobbied to legalize gambling throughout California, as well as deregulating toxic waste from refineries such as Biffco. Opponents argue that the passage of this bill will turn every big city, small town, and suburb into just another Hill Valley."

"This is heavy," muttered Marty.

"Let's go to the mall, but I think we better hide the DeLorean before we enter Hill Valley," suggested Sofia.

They continued to drive, seeing occasional ominous details hinting at the chaotic world they had unwittingly entered. Abandoned cars on fire on the side of the road, large metal gates on private property, and billboards advertising semi-automatic weapons for protection. In the outskirts of Hill Valley, instead of new housing developments there were abandoned buildings, tent cities, and bonfires. It was clear now that they would not find Doc, dead or alive, at the mall. In fact, they didn't even see a mall, at least not a functioning one. It took some imagination, but it appeared that the ruins were once a mall, but had long since been converted into a series of detached buildings. The ones still standing housed homeless people, victims of whatever, or whoever, created this timeline.

"We better walk from here," Sofia mentioned in slow monotone voice.

Sofia and Marty found a place next to a huge pile of trash where they could cover and hide the DeLorean. Neither knew why they were continuing on toward the town square, but it seemed like the only place that might have some answers.

As they began to walk the three miles to the town square, Marty wondered how much worse this nightmare could get. Just days ago he was a normal high school kid. Since then, he was introduced to a time machine, witnessed a murder, escaped death himself, travelled to an alternate universe, been interrogated as a terrorist, escaped the authorities, and travelled to a third universe. Even with how terrible this third universe was, Marty knew he couldn't return to the one he just left. While the previous reality didn't have as many problems as this one seemed to, Marty wasn't wanted for murder or for colluding with terrorist here-as far as he knew. Of course, he and Sofia may not even be able to get back, since it was clear that Sofia misunderstood how to work the DeLorean.

The streets were now more crowded with people, parked and crashed cars, bikers, and trash. Gunfire could be heard nearby as motorcycle engines revved unnecessarily. While they couldn't make out the source, there was a neon glow that became brighter and brighter as they approached the square. As they rounded the corner, it finally became visible. Despite the confusion, Marty could only focus on the large face plastered on the building above the words "Pleasure Paradise." The 27-story casino was built right on top of the courthouse.

"Who is Biff Tannen?" asked Sofia.

Marty couldn't put together his thoughts to even begin to try to answer the question. Why was it that in each universe Marty went to, Biff was more and more powerful? Marty moved closer to the casino, and he noticed the "Biff Tannen Museum" just to the right. A TV screen in front of the museum was playing a promo for its attraction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Biff Tannen Museum, dedicated to Hill Valley's number one citizen, and America's greatest living folk hero, the one, the only, Biff Tannen," the voice from the museum's video said. "Of course, we've all heard the legend, but who is the man? Inside you will learn how Biff Tannen became one of the richest and most powerful men in America." The screen showed a young Biff driving a fancy car in front of a big house. "Learn the amazing history of the Tannen family, starting with his great grandfather, Buford 'Mad Dog' Tannen, the fastest gun in the west." A grizzled old man, who resembled Biff, was shown on the screen in an old black and white photo. "See Biff's humble beginnings, and how a trip to the races on his 21st birthday made him a millionaire overnight. Share in the excitement of a fabulous winning streak…" The TV continued, showing the _Hill Valley Telegraph_ with the headline "Biff Wins Again." "That earned him the nickname 'The Luckiest Man On Earth.' Learn how Biff parlayed that lucky winning streak into the vast empire named Biffco. Discover how in 1979 Biff successfully lobbied to legalize gambling and turned Hill Valley's dilapidated court house into a beautiful casino-hotel." Marty continued to watch the video, like it was a slow car crash that he couldn't look away from.

"I just want to say one thing - God bless America," said a younger Biff on the museum's video.

"Meet the women who shared in his passion as he searched for true love," continued the narrator as the video showed pictures of Biff with various women, then showing a picture of Lorraine. "And relive Biff's happiest moment, as in 1973 he realized his life long dream by marrying his high school sweetheart, Lorraine Baines McFly."

The TV showed footage of the wedding. As Biff and Lorraine left the church, a reporter's arm with a microphone is seen. "How do you feel, Mr. Tannen?" the reporter asked.

"Third time's the charm," said Biff from the video, just before he planted a kiss on a visibly unwilling Lorraine.

"Noooooooo!" Marty yelled in shock and disgust. He took several steps back as he yelled and ended up right in the arms of three men. "No!" Marty yelled again and looked at the unfamiliar faces now holding onto him. A tall man wearing a cowboy hat, a man with short hair, and a man with long hair who was wearing 3-D glasses unnecessarily.

"Hey wait," said the short haired man, "You're coming with us upstairs!"

"Sonny, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," the tall man in the cowboy hat said to Marty. The three men continued to push Marty and began to force him into the casino. Marty stomped his foot down on top of the foot of the man in glasses who was directly behind him. He broke loose but had nowhere to go but inside the casino.

Marty entered and ran between the aisles and aisles of slot machines before ducking behind a life-sized wax replica of Biff. The three men ran past him, and Marty slowly stepped out from behind his hiding spot and headed for the exit. As he opened the door to leave, he was met by a security guard who threw a bag over his head, while two other security guards grabbed him. "I got him at the front," said the security guard into his walkie-talkie.

Marty, now unable to see and being held down, could hear the three other men approaching. "Always choose the easy way, 3-D," the tall man in the cowboy hat said to the man with long hair and 3-D glasses.

"Oh, he's going to get it now, Match," responded 3-D. He then whacked Marty in the head with a nightstick, and Marty collapsed to the ground in a thud.


End file.
